In the heart of the maelstrom that is our latest winter storm, the snow blows and throws everything into a frenetic, chaotic haze. Lost among the swirling snowflakes and billions of ice crystals is the hope of spring. I know it’s there, it’s just out of sight, hidden among the harshness of winter. Beneath the snow, the garden is still asleep. Like a kid on Christmas morning, I want to rush in and wake it up, drag it in its sleepy, rumpled state to the edge of snow, and make it wave the magic wand of warmth to force the winter away for another year.
Instead, winter still holds the upper hand. My eyes sting with the cold impact of suicidal snowflakes. Kill or be killed, and so I trudge on, struggling to gain an advantage, to find my focus again.
We must create our own oasis in the midst of this desert of winter.
